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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442683">en prise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/leovenus/pseuds/monsooned'>monsooned (leovenus)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crimson Flower Chapter 14: The Master Tactician, F/M, i just THINK</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:55:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/leovenus/pseuds/monsooned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(In chess: A piece that can be captured and is not guarded.)</p>
<p>“Why’d <i>you</i> do it?” Claude counters, folding his arms across his chest. “I was at your mercy. Edelgard wouldn’t have cared.”</p>
<p>The breath snags in her chest on the way in, and she has to tug on it before it moves, relents on its way out. A laugh finds its way in there, but it is humourless. “I think you know.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>en prise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After Derdriu, he finds them by the docks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard turns when Byleth's eyes widen a fraction as they're speaking. Despite the pomposity of her regalia, her horned crown - the Emperor gawks at his approach. It makes her look seventeen again, chancing upon the aftermath of yet another of Claude's pranks in the hallways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude lifts a corner of his mouth in greeting. "Hey, Teach." His eyes, brilliant emerald, are jovial but carefully blank.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hadn't been able to take him in in the fire of battle, desperate as she had been to subdue him without injuring him too badly, if at all. As her gaze skims over him it lingers on his right arm, cradled a touch protectively to his side. But he's alive and whole, and where he had been handsome before he is now striking. A longheld fondness stirs in her chest. Byleth looks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She drags her gaze to meet his eyes, as levelly as she can. "Claude," she acknowledges, well aware of Edelgard's presence by her side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Claude?!" Edelgard echoes, stance shifting. It's halfhearted, as if she has already read him but is going through the paces just to be sure. "What are you doing here?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude - gingerly, but only because she's looking for it - crosses his arms, shifting all of his weight onto one leg. "Calm down, Edie," he drawls, languid. "You won, and Teach broke my arm tackling me off my wyvern. No men with me. Plenty of yours around. We're all good." He indicates with a jerk of his head the guards patrolling the pier, watching the horizon to ensure no Almyran forces return. "I just wanted to say hi."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard relaxes a fraction, but her gaze is still suspicious. "You </span>
  <em>
    <span>got past my guards</span>
  </em>
  <span>," she starts, "Gave your </span>
  <em>
    <span>own army the slip</span>
  </em>
  <span>," she continues, "and wandered up to a hostile force alone and injured - just to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>hi?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude mock-bristles at that, good arm flying to his chest in a display of put-on offence. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hostile</span>
  </em>
  <span>?' he asks, aghast. "Teach here is hardly hostile." A touch warmer, "She spared my life, after all."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth allows the faintest hint of humour to bleed into her face. “You know me. A paragon of goodwill.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something flickers in Claude’s gaze - it looks the tiniest bit like pride - before he turns back to Edelgard. “You really don’t need to worry, Princess,” he says, and it is perhaps a testament to his charm - sharpened, honed finely into a weapon - that Edelgard doesn’t even bristle at the out of date title. “I’ll be going - back. And the Alliance is yours. I’ve told them to cooperate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he had noticed her borrowing his tendency to wield humour as a deflection. Something in Byleth’s chest aches; she was no good at it, but it was precisely because she joked so rarely that people never expected her to be hiding anything when she did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude had taught her that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going down suspiciously easily,” Edelgard hedges, hackles seeming to rise again. She glances behind her, as if gauging how far away Hubert must be, even though she had sent him to attend to the clean up while she and Byleth debriefed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t possibly be handing me all of this just like that - there must be a catch - </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>of all people, there has to be a catch - ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then she softens, shoulders dipping faintly. She’s seen something that is enough to convince her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Incorrigible as always," she tells Claude, shaking her head slowly. "I never did know what to make of you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude's grin widens and he reaches out to take Edelgard's hand, pressing a kiss to it as he sweeps into a bow. "My lady," he intones, in a poor imitation of Hubert's deep, smooth tones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard snatches her hand back as if burned. Her cheeks blaze a red to match her uniform. "Claude </span>
  <em>
    <span>von Riegan</span>
  </em>
  <span> -," she begins, then stops, looking at him until her eyes narrow. A reluctant smile is pushing its way onto her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The absolute worst," she declares with a huff, then turns to Byleth. "Very well. I have matters to see to, but - I'll leave you to talk.” This last part she says in lower tones, even though it's obvious Claude can hear. "You always were - partial to him."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth's eyebrows shoot into her hairline. Edelgard smiles as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and yet you came with me</span>
  </em>
  <span> - clasps Byleth's forearm, then nods to Claude, and leaves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth dreads turning around, wondering what she’ll find now that they’re alone. For all the battles she’s fought this is one she doesn’t know how to begin to strategise against.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude is looking at her, bright green eyes placid pools of still. “Teach,” he greets at length, voice scratchy on the downturn. “Walk with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why'd you do it?" Byleth asks, staring out onto the water. She thinks of the time she had been on a boat to travel from Leicester to Adrestria the short way around, three weeks under deck spent green to the gills while her father laughed at her and taught her card games to pass the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If she had a pack of cards now, she thinks, she’d have another way for Claude to show her she’s lost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude inhales, sharply, holding the breath for two counts before he lets it all out at once in a gust of air that shakes at its tail end. "Not sure you'd believe me if I told you," he quips, half-smile still in place, far from his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d walked down the docks, tracing the edge of the ocean until they came to a rest near a breakwater. Byleth scuffs a boot in the sand, trying her best not to think of the last time it had been the two of them alone by the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(“There’s something big brewing, Teach,” Claude says, skipping stones into the fishing pond. “I don’t know if </span>
  </em>
  <span>good</span>
  <em>
    <span> big. But in my experience that’s probably too much to hope for.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Byleth hums, one of Claude’s skipping stones cool in her hand. “No,” she agrees, “Whatever it is probably isn’t going to be good.” Edelgard has told her nothing, but the secrecy of the coronation - the way Hubert seemed to be watching her more closely, now - a restlessness has crawled over her skin. It sits there, sickly sweet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Claude looks at her, eyes narrowed. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t it?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She meets his gaze. Something twists in her chest at the thought of lying to the only person who had taken to her as a friend, even if she knew he had had other motives at the start. “It is not my secret to tell,” she says at last, willing him to understand. The pebble is suddenly heavy. The weight of it settles in her gut.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He looks - lost, briefly, for a moment. Then he shakes his head, abruptly, and tosses another stone with a flick of the wrist. They watch in silence as it skips one, two, three, seven - eight times before sinking into the water.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know,” he starts, slowly. “I wish you’d chosen me.” When she looks at him Claude winks. “Is it too late to change houses?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If she was the sort of person who laughed, Byleth thinks she would’ve. Instead she smiles, and shakes her head. “Seteth would have a coronary,” she says, instead. Then his words catch up to her, and Byleth’s mouth rounds in an ‘o’ as she hastens to correct him. “You mean I should’ve chosen the Golden Deer.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For perhaps the first time in the year she’s known him, Claude falters. His mask slides back into place - pauses, stalls. He shoves it away. “No,” he says, determined. “I meant me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Claude,” Byleth says, at a loss. She slowly draws her legs up towards her, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees. In the moonlight he is still golden, so dear to her. He’s looking at her like there’s something on the line. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She takes a deep breath. Wills herself to be honest. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I only wish I could.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t you?” he asks, voice faintly tremulous. “After this year - if you wanted to leave - you could, couldn’t you, or at least we could stay in touch- ”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He stops himself, blinking rapidly as if he’d said far too much. “Sorry. I- ” his tongue works uncomfortably around the formal words - “I spoke out of turn.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, don’t - don’t do that,” Byleth says, her voice coming out like a plea to her own ears. A hand reaches out, settles on his knee. “Not with me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cautiously, his hand covers hers, grasping tight. His eyes search her out. Byleth holds his gaze evenly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll let you know,” Byleth murmurs, turning her hand and linking it with his.)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Try me,” she tells him, watching him out of the corner of her eye. When she feels him turn to look at her she fixes her gaze firmly on a ship on the horizon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>do it?” Claude counters, folding his arms across his chest. “I was at your mercy. Edelgard wouldn’t have cared.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The breath snags in her chest on the way in, and she has to tug on it before it moves, relents on its way out. A laugh finds its way in there, but it is humourless. “I think you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Teach,” Claude starts, then shakes himself in a startling echo of the boy in her memories. “Byleth,” he says almost sluggishly. “I don’t - it’s been -” He scrubs a hand over his face, and when he pulls it away he looks worn. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Five </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Byleth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This talk is long overdue. With everyone she had cared for, whom she hasn’t seen since the day the Empire marched, but perhaps most of all Claude. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was dead,” she says. “I woke up the day of the Millennium Festival. I…” she pauses, licking her lips. They are cracked against her tongue. “I wanted to see you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you rejoined with the Empire instead,” Claude retorts, whip-sharp, until she faces him and he is frozen in horror. “No - I didn’t mean to say that. Forget I said that. Not with the time we don’t - have, I.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Claude,” she says, grateful to be able to say his name. She reaches for him, reckless, and touches the tip of a finger to his cheek. “Edelgard - her goals are not so different from yours.” Then, “She found me first.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And I was already traitor to the Church.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flicker of hesitation. He leans into the touch. His skin is warm, faintly dewy from the sweat and grime of battle. Byleth thumbs the slope of a cheekbone, holding herself impossibly still. “I know,” he says at length, hoarsely. “She’s - she’s still in there, isn’t she? The Imperial Princess with her grand ambitions?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth smiles wryly. “Pot, kettle, black. But she is. Edelgard, she - she is trying to do this as cleanly as possible. The Church notwithstanding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude makes a face at the mention of the Church, and it startles a yelp of laughter out of her, her hand flying away except he’s caught it, now, long fingers wrapping around her wrist as he tugs her a step closer, eyes trained with a deep intensity on hers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You laughed,” he murmurs, sounding awestruck. His gaze warms her skin as surely as his touch. Before she can shy away - “It looks good on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She has no heart, and yet. “Claude,” Byleth bites out. “Don’t make this difficult for me.” She could twist out of his grip. She doesn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he smiles it is terribly resigned. “I fucked everything up, didn’t I?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have to go back to Almyra, don’t you,” Byleth asks, point blank. “You’re not just a noble there. No - ” she scans his face, the fine quality of his attire, in her mind his regal white wyvern. “The throne,” she surmises, with the decency to turn the statement up at the end like a question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude looks into her face for a few long moments before he breaks. “As expected of you,” he laughs. There’s a note of fondness in there. “You really don’t miss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth feels her own gaze soften. “After the war,” she finds herself saying, a hand twining itself into his side. “I will help Edelgard see this through, and I know you must have your own matters to attend to, but after that - ” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She trails off, leaving it open ended on purpose. “You’ll know how to contact me,” she says, simply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude says nothing for a while, taking in her face, the pale green pools of her eyes. “A lot has changed, Byleth,” he says at length. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you sure you want to know me still?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth looks at him searchingly. “I’m a quick study.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes flicker, and he leans down to press a kiss her forehead. No more than the pecks she had seen him press to a friend’s cheek, many a time, but there’s a longing there, shaped like a promise. Byleth focuses on the warmth of his skin through his clothing under her hands, wills herself not to get carried away on far-flung whimsy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should go,” she mumbles, even as she leans further into him, nosing his ear. With effort, she steps away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The air is briny, sea breeze so fresh it is almost at odds with the fact that a battle had been waged that day. He is handsome in the departing daylight, wavy hair tousled, his attire rumpled and worn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In all that he is looking at her like she’s something he wants. Byleth raises a hand, awkwardly, trying to think of something to say. Then it comes to her, before she can really think too hard about it -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>- “I’ll let you know,” she says. “I promise, this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A faint quirk of the lips makes itself known. “I’ll hold you to that,” Claude says, raising his own hand in farewell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s nearly back to camp before she sees the outline of a white wyvern, a speck of light in the darkening sky. If she stops to watch until it vanishes, at least there is no-one around to tell.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
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